The Fellowship of the Gumball
by kinky finkelstein
Summary: All of middle earth is under the evil control of a ruthless, evil, killing, hating.. gumball. It must be taken back to the candy factory from whence it came. Follow Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pip, and a few other dudes as they brave the perils along the way.
1. Prologue

**a/n, 1/3/08: **Three years later, Sweet Daddy D and I have actually decided to finish this, man.  
Chapter two was already up, but we fixx0r'd the formatting and made it longer and we're going to post chapter four soon. But probably chapter three will be up before then. Because chronological order is valued by some people, yes?

Anyway, this prologue and the first two chapters were written when I was 13, at which point we abandoned it (le gasp), and the chapters after that are more recent. Not any less stupid, but maybe a little betterly-written. No promises, though.

...

One, a long time ago, there were many, MANY power sick freaks. It was based on the "what do all men want? more power!" theory, and it was running wild.

See, there was this guy, named Sauron. A big fan of Lizzie McGuire, Sauron loved to watch it and eat his fluffy pink marshmallow peeps. One day, after Sauron had finished his homework, he decided to make an Evil candy factory. He decided to make lots and lots of all-ruling gumballs.

He gave three to the Elves, in hopes that the gumballs would ruin their perfect sparkly white teeth.

Seven were given to the Dwarf lords, who were great minors, but were suckers for a nice, chewy gumball. The bastards couldn't have much more tooth decay as it was -- they weren't smart enough to use tooth brushes -- so Sauron figured those evil gumballs could turn them into toothless old pricks.

And finally, nine gumballs were given to the race of men who, as I said, desire power above all else.

But all of them had no idea what the fuck was going on, for another Gumball was made.

This powerful, sugar-filled piece of candy, the One Gumball, was the most powerful and tooth-decay-causing gumball of all, and Sauron kept it and drooled over it like a hungry mental patient, clutching it in his sweaty, dirty hand while watching reruns of Lizzie McGuire over and over and over again.

The races formed an alliance of protesting warriors, united in a desperate attempt to kick his sorry Gordo-obsessed ass. He sent out his army of marshmallow Peeps and malevolent sentient Sour Patch Kids, and numerous evil sugar-warriors got their asses kicked as they cowered and attempted to look seductively delicious.

As King Happy-Thought-Pansy took up his giant blow-torch and advanced on Sauron with it, yelling, "Suck my big fat one you cheap dime store hood!" Sauron threw a Converse shoe at the King, hitting him right in the eye, knocking him up against the wall of rock.

Isildor was the king's son, and he was pissed.

He took up his father's blow-torch, but Sauron stepped on it, crushing it flat, and making quite a sharp edge on one side.

Isildor seized the blow-torch and chucked it at Sauron.

The sharp edge sliced Sauron's arm off, and he screamed like a girl in a high pitched voice, hopping around and going "Like, oh my god! You like, totally cut my arm off!"

The arm fell to the ground, along with the evil cherry-flavored One Gumball. As Sauron hopped off, still shrieking, Isildor wiped his brow and muttered "God, what a pansy."

Then he spied the One Gumball laying upon the groud, and he reached for it.

Isildur reached for the Gumball, and he stared at with love and sugar withdrawal in his eyes, and he gave it a single lick. "CHERRY!" he squealed happily, bouncing off the walls in a super sugar-rush.

"D'oh! You're turning purple, like in Willy Wonka!" Elrond said, slapping his head in frustation. He grabbed the Gumball away and tried to set it on fire.

"Eeee!" Isildur squeaked.

"Oh shut up, it's not working anyway," Elrond frowed.

"We can't destroy it, so LET ME EAT IT!" Isildur yelled, tackling it.

Too late. Elrond already had it.

"There's only one way we can destroy this thing. It must be taken back to Sauron's house, sneaked in past his five hundred pound mother, and cast back into the candy-melter from where it came!" Elrond said, trying to look important. Ha, NOT.

Isildur snatched it back. "Precioussss.." he hissed. "Ooh! a birdy!"

And Isildur dropped the gumball, skipping off towards the bird, which pecked his eyes out.

The Gumball was found by Gollum, who carried it with him to his secret lair, named it Bon Bon, and befriended the evil sugary goodness. He conversed with the Gumball, never realizing that it never spoke back, and dressed it in minuscule dresses made from fish skin.

But after about five hundred years or so, the gumball rolled away from Gollum, and was found by an ugly-ass hobbit, Bilbo Baggins who had been walking around in that dark, evil cave of Gollum's, which smelled horribly like rotten fish.

"Damn dwarves, leave me behind, those bastards.. how the frick am I supposed to get out of here.." Bilbo was muttering.

He tripped over a particularly big rock.

"OWW! GOD DAMN SHIT SUCKING ROCK!" he howled, rolling around and holding his big, hairy toe.

When he stopped moaning and cussing, he looked around on the ground.

"What the hell is this.. ooh! a Gumball! I shall it Gummy, Gummy it shall be, and it shall be Gummy!" Bilbo said, pocketing the thing.

He then went skipping down the tunnel whistling I Feel Pretty.

That is how the gumball came into possession of Bilbo Baggins, in the Shire. Now our story begins, a shitload of years later...


	2. Suck my coffee drinking ass, chump

Frodo Baggins performed an intricate Scottish dance in a circle around a tree.

"Ta-da!" he cried, finishing up his dance and tripping over his own enormous hairy feet, landing on his face.

"Damn it!" he muttered, getting up and brushing himself off. "DAMN YOU PIPPIN AND YOUR ADVANCED SCOTTISH DANCING SKILLS!" he screamed so loudly that about forty owls taking refuge in a tree nearby took flight, chattering loudly and shitting on Frodo's head.

Pippin took one last puff of his cigarette, flicked the ashes onto Frodo's foot, then got up and said, "No, no, you idiot! It goes like THIS." And Pippin danced, staying on his feet.

"You suck, you know that?" the shit-ridden burned hobbit Frodo said sourly.

"Suck my coffee-drinking ass, chump." Pip replied smoothly.

Frodo licked his lips hungrily at these words. "Really?" he asked hopefully.

Pippin gave Frodo a disgusted look. "No."

Frodo pouted. "Why get my hopes up, then?"

Pippin shook his head and lit another cigarette.

A carriage was heard approaching now, and Frodo's huge, freaky eyes lit up with joy.

"Gandalf!" he cried, skipping like a sugarplum fairy toward Gandalf's carriage.

"I ain't no hollaback girl, I ain't no hollaback GIRL!" Gandalf shouted the last word, stopping the carriage.

"What's up, sweetie?" Frodo asked, batting his eyelashes at Gandalf.

"Oh piss off you homosexual," Gandalf said casually. He gave a grunt.

And guess what happened?

A firework blew out of the side of the carriage and hit Frodo square between the eyes.

A large hole dripped with gore where his general nose area had been a few moments ago.

Gandalf giggled and poked one finger through the hole. "I can see my hand through your head!"

"I would kill whoever lit that firework, but I'm feeling rather woozy." Frodo said.

Pippin whistled innocently and tried to hide the book of matches in his hand.

Merry scratched a stick-fairy into the dirt with one furry toe and labeled it 'FRODO'.

Frodo fell over and his head made a dreadfully delightful thunk against the ground.

"Aayoww.." he moaned.

"Hey guys," Sam said, peering down at Frodo. "What'd you do to him this time?" he asked, as though it were perfectly normal for someone to be lying on the ground with a hole through his head.

"Blew up the fireworks on him," Gandalf grinned.

Sam smiled.

"Nice one. Come on, Bill," and he lead the pony carefully across Frodo's spine and trotted away to do his gardening.

"Ohemgee..." moaned Frodo, moving limply on the ground. "Oh dear."

Pippin squatted on the ground next to him. "Are you okay, Frodo?" he asked, as Merry attempted to shove his head through the hole.

Frodo simply whimpered and bled a bit.

"Oh Jesus, I think I'm stuck!" exclaimed Merry. He had managed to get the top of his head stuck through the hole in Frodo's head.

"Fool of a.. what the hell is your last name again?" Gandalf asked, scratching his chin.

"Brandybuck, you asshole!" Merry snapped, his face now wet with Frodo's blood.

"Ahh yes.. fool of a Brandybuckyouasshole!" Gandalf said, waggling his finger at Merry as though he were three.

"Oh shut the hell up and GET ME OUT." Merry snapped. He whirled his head around and around.

"Woo! He's a Frodo-go-round!" Pip cheered over Frodo's screamed of agony.

"Fine, fine." Gandalf sighed. "Pippin, take Brandybuckyouasshole's feet." He grabbed Frodo's ankles and squeezed them, causing them to make awful cracking noises. Pippin took Merry's feet, and they both ran in opposite directions clutching hobbit feet.

"AAAYYYYYURGH!" shrieked Frodo.

"WEEE!" cheered Merry as his head pulled out of Frodo's wound with a loud pop. "Merry! Merry! Merry! Merry is FREEE!" He cheered, skipping around, and not paying any attention to Frodo's sobs of pain.

"So what're we gonna do about this dude?" Pip asked, poking Frodo in the eye with the stem of his pipe.

"Dunno.. leave him here so the vultures eat him while he's still alive?" Gandalf guessed, chewing on some beef jerky.

"JERKY MINE!" Pippin said, snatching the jerky away from Gandalf and huddling over it like a fat girl who only had seven breakfasts that day instead of twelve.

Merry was still running around in circles screaming "MERRY IS FREE!", and he accidentally stepped through the hole in Frodo's mangled face and tripped, sending himself flying face first into Frodo's ass while jerking Frodo's head back with his foot.

"Oh Jesus!" Merry screeched, trying to get up.

"You tard! You're breaking my fucking NECK!" Frodo screamed.

Merry dragged himself forward and shook his foot violently. He hit something squishy; possibly Frodo's brain.

"Ooh, hey look at this, guys!" Merry had freed himself, and poked a spot in Frodo's brain.

Frodo's leg jerked.

"Oy! Pip! Come here.."

And they spent at least an hour poking Frodo's brain, thus causing his body parts to either kick or twitch.

"Enough." Gandalf said finally. "He might give you herpes, or rabies."

"Eee!" Pippin and Merry shrieked and jumped backwards delicately.

"Ohh God I lorve yooo Gandalve.." Frodo slurred, drool running down his chin.

Gandalf picked up Frodo like a sack of PO! TAY! TOW!s and threw him into the carriage carelessly. Frodo hit the bottom with a thud.

"AIIIIEEEEE!" he let out a shriek.

"Shut up, pansy.." Gandalf muttered, and he climbed back up onto his seat and started driving again.

"Whay er we goin?" Frodo asked. His jaw had busted when he hit the wagon, so this was the best he could do.

"Back to your uncle Bilbo's house. I have a few things that sorry little bastard can help me with." Gandalf answered carelessly, as the carriage took a sharp turn, skidded on two wheels, and landed with a bang.

"Dyaaaai!" Frodo moaned as he flopped around like a rag doll in the carriage.

"Oh, shut up and quit begging for attention!" Gandalf snapped, whistling a few lines of Hollaback Girl under his breath.

A few minutes later, Gandalf and the battered, mutilated Frodo reached Bilbo's house.

Gandalf went around to the other side of the carriage and pulled Frodo out by one leg, and dragged him inside Bilbo's house.


	3. Out of his damn tree

Bilbo was sitting inside on the floor, playing tea party with his collection of Barbies and My Little Ponies.

"Oy! Bilbo!" Gandalf called, dropping Frodo on the ground.

"Uhn!" he moaned, tenderly holding his ankle, which was swelled up and purplish.

"Ah, Gandalf! DO come in! I was wondering, do you have that last Barbie doll? It's the Strawberry Slut-Cake one.." Bilbo muttered, setting down his toys.

"Oh shut up, you fruitcake, and listen to me. We have three problems now, thanks to you." Gandalf said grumpily, sitting down.

"And what's that?" Bilbo asked, sucking hard on his juice box.

"One, that evil Gumball I mentioned earlier. Two, that fool of a Took blew Frodo up again. And three, I'm a little worried about your fetish for Barbie dolls."

"How is Frodo's being blown up my fault?" inquired Bilbo, looking around with a blank and somewhat stupid look on his face.

"Fool of a Baggins." muttered Gandalf, annoyed. "Just shut up and let me talk, or I'll be forced to shove my staff up your ass and turn you into a sandwich." He wiggled his fingers in the air and made a grotesque face, like a four year old.

Bilbo let out a loud gasp and clutched his rear. "No, no, of course that would never do.. Bilbo flavored sandwich, who'd eat it?"

Frodo raised his hand. "Pippin would." he offered. "Or Merry."

"I don't want them to eat my delicious soul!" Bilbo squeaked.

Gandalf lowered his staff.

"Fine, then.. so, explain to me once more, WHY are you playing with Barbie Dolls again?" he asked.

"Because they're pretty!" Nevermind the fact that one of them looked like she could eat a trailer.

"Fair enough." Gandalf sighed, defeated. "Someone get him an apron, maybe we can have us a nice little housewife."

"Maybe we can have us a nice little Bilbo loaf, too." Samwise Gamgee hinted from behind the windowsill.

Gandalf immediately turned and directed his rage at Sam. "How many times have I told you about SNEAKING AROUND ON PEOPLE LIKE THIS?" he threatened, snippets of malevolent green lettuce sparking from the end of his staff. One floated lazily to the sill and latched itself to Sam's nose.

Sam cowered and began frantically swatting at the lettuce hanging off his nose. "It wasn't my fault! I wasn't sneaking, I was overhearing!" He brandished a pair of garden shears. Never mind the fact that the trees he was pruning belonged to his fat aunt Margaret who resided _at the other side of town._

Gandalf switched his gaze from the comical view of Sam swatting at the lettuce hanging persistently from Sam's nose, wondering briefly if it would spawn some kind of emotionless clone of the fat little hobbit, to the trees that were several households away, and back again. Sighing, he threw aside his staff and the little piece of lettuce floated away in the gentle breeze.

"Well, if you have to act like a nosy old grandmother," he said sternly. "How much have you heard?"

"Enough to want to stay away from _him_," said Sam, looking nervously at Bilbo. Bilbo was playing with his Barbies again. One of them was now called Butch, and the other was called Rosie, and they were having a passionate plastic lesbian affair in Bilbo's wrinkly old man hands.

Nasty.

"What about the one Gumball that's going to take over all of humanity?" Frodo asked innocently.

Gandalf pointed his staff at Frodo and blew another hole in his head in a very nonchalant manner. "That's settled then, you know too much and you're coming with us!"

"We can have a tea party together!" Bilbo said ecstatically, abandoning Butch and Rosie in order to pop up from behind Sam and scare the living hell out of him.

Sam screamed like a girl and jumped out of Bilbo's way, smacking his head on the doorframe and falling down half-unconscious.

"What, we're leaving now?" Pippin whined from the kitchen. "I don't have time to get my fourth supper!"

"Oh, I'm sure we'll find some maniacal ranger who'll be happy to harvest the local fruits and throw them at you for your fifty-seventh breakfast next morning," Gandalf said, his voice heavy with annoyance.

Loading up Sam's pony Brianna (nicknamed "Bill" by those who thought no horse should have to bear the name "Brianna") they headed off deep into the woods.

"Why are we going this far?" Frodo complained, nursing the bleeding hole in his head that he had managed to wrap up with Band-Aids. "The road we're taking's just over there!"

"Because we can!" said Gandalf, who was looking quite pleased at himself for forcing a long walk on a handful of lazy hobbits and an unfortunately named girl pony.

Bilbo had tagged along, and was tripping over his pretty dress and forcing them to all stop whenever Butch and Rosie decided they needed more plastic lesbian action. Dirty old pervert.

And worst of all, Pippin was still hungry.

Once they were pretty much lost in the heart of the woods, with Bilbo whining about how his heart was going to give out and his dolls weren't getting enough lesbian action, Gandalf stopped and turned to face them all.

"Now, listen." he dropped his voice to a whisper. "I have some very special business to take care of, so I need my homies -- you guys -- to get to the Inn of the Prancing Pony."

"Pony!" squeaked Merry, clapping his hands.

"Yeah, right. Anyway, keep it secret. Keep it safe. And never, ever put that Gumball in your mouth, no matter how tasty it may look and no matter how hungry you may get. For the moment the Gumball touches your lips, you will have a half-life. A cursed life."

"Wrong movie, dude." Sam reminded him.

"Then how do you explain THIS?" Gandalf asked, flaunting his left hand. "Tragic, limp, dead."

"It looks completely normal, dumbass." replied Sam.

"That's _Dumble_ass to you!" Gandalf was obviously out of his damn tree.

"Can I eat it?" Pippin asked, his eyes glazed over and staring at Gandalf's hand with the sort of lust that hobbits reserved for their meals.

Gandalf went to deny Pippin his piggish desire, but a sly smirk crossed his face. "Sure, go ahead."

Pippin took an eager bite at Gandalf's hand, then pulled back, spitting out skin. He stood there for a moment, and then fell to his knees, screaming, "It was my fault! Make it stop! KILL ME!"

"Shut the hell up, you twit." Merry kicked him, and Pippin, after he realized he had not, in fact, drank some kind of poisoned liquid.

"I want a drink." Pippin whined, getting to his feet and wiping his mouth.

"So get to Bree and get a pint! Now, off with you! I have to go see Hugo-- I mean, Elrond."

Twirling gracefully on the spot, Dumbleass-- I mean, Gandalf, vanished into thin air with a sharp crack.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**a/n**: So, that was definitely half of the original chapter three and half new stuff Sweet Daddy D and I wrote today. I love that my writing hasn't gotten any more mature or intelligent since I was thirteen.


	4. Happy Hour with Elrond

The hobbits trudged and bitched and eventually they came to the Prancing Pony. They all shuffled their feet outside and avoided going inside for as long as possible, because they didn't want to get carded and left boozeless without Gandalf, but alas, Gandalf was off doing questionable things with an elf that had scary Vulcan eyebrows and looked like he could turn you to stone by looking at you the wrong way. Kazam.

Finally, Pippin shrugged and ran inside, on the reasoning that he needed booze and he needed food and he needed it _now._ The others followed him, on the reasoning that they were largely wimps and couldn't go in unless someone else did first.

The hobbits got themselves settled into a table in the corner with a large pitcher of ale and several mugs, and a plate of random foods including lemon drops and edelweiss. As they ate and got properly shitfaced, Pippin noticed a man in the corner. Well, a schwa-type man. One that was normal-sized.

"Hey, there's a guy over there staring at us."

"Maybe he likes you, Pip." Frodo hiccuped, giggling.

"Shut up, you one-eyed pile of shit." Pippin sulked, throwing a lemon drop at Frodo and hitting him square in the eye.

"The pile of shit has a THOUSAND eyes!" Frodo retorted, reaching over and bitch-slapping him.

As they continued to bicker and hurt each other, Pippin began to get rather munchy, as he always did when he was toasted. He glanced disdainfully at the remaining lemon drops and edelweiss, and decided he would have none of that nonsense.

Digging around in Frodo's coat pocket, he found some leftover cigarettes and a few balls of lint, but nothing else.

And then his fingers closed around something about the size of a peanut... something that felt smooth and fresh and slightly squishy to the touch...

The One Gumball.

_One lick won't hurt..._ Pippin said to himself, and popped the Gumball into his mouth.

It took about three seconds before there was a bloodcurdling screech that shattered the windows and made everyone go quiet.

Just then, the door to the Inn was destroyed, as nine Wraiths burst through the door. They were tall and menacing with their black horses. And they were all wearing Guy Fawkes masks.

The barman, with a look of terror, dove behind the counter with a shout of, "HOLY SHIT, IT'S GAY MAN!"

"Freddie Mercury?!" shouted the man, looking around in frantic excitement. One of the more properly moustachio'd Wraiths looked flattered, and then composed itself and killed the dumbass who apparently overlooked the cloak and the sense of impending DOOM.

The schwa man in the corner sprang to his feet and an oooOoooOoo scary peanut Patronus erupted from the end of the skinny little stick he had under his robe, but then he realized that he wasn't a damn wizard and Patronuses didn't exist and that the stick was just useless. The peanut deflated and sadly poofed away.

The Freddie Mercury/Gay Man leader of the Wraiths looked fazed for a moment, before snapping his fingers.

One of the other Wraiths came forward and seized Schwa-Man, and took him over to undergo agonizing torture of cosmetics, while the head Wraith went over to Pippin.

"Who is the dumbass who has put in his mouth the One Gumball?" he thundered, trying to look terrifying. But a happy smiling mask isn't something to be afraid of, unless it is in danger of being kissed by a dirty bald lesbian.

Pippin pointed automatically to Merry, who pointed to Sam, who pointed to Frodo, who pointed to Bilbo, who was playing with his dollies and was completely oblivious to the whole thing.

"You never shall lick the One Gumball again!" said the smiling mask. It smited Bilbo, and all that remained now was a meatloaf sandwich sitting in Bilbo's chair, that had some malevolent-looking lettuce bits poking out the sides. It looked suspiciously like Bilbo. Pippin secretly rejoiced.

"He can never again violate the greatness of the One Gumball with his dirty old pervert tongue!" thundered the smiling mask. With that, he turned on his high heel and headed for the door, snapping his fingers for his henchman who was still torturing Schwa-Man. "Shannon! Get your smiley-face ass over here!"

Growling, Shannon dropped Schwa-Man, who fell to the floor and began twitching, and headed for the door. With a clap of thunder that appeared from nowhere, the Wraiths disappeared.

The hobbits recovered and stopped cowering behind chairs like the little wimps that they were, and they cautiously approached Schwa-Man to see if he was alive and okay.

Well, except for Pippin. Pippin lifted Bilbo from his chair, shoved him in his mouth, and stalked off after the other hobbits.

Merry skipped over to Schwa-Man and prodded him with one filthy toe. "Are you—" he began, but Schwa-Man leapt to his feet and cowered in disgust before he could finish.

"I'm fine, keep your feet away from me!" he snarled.

"Schwa-Man?" Sam asked tentatively.

"What the hell does that mean?" came the curiously angry reply.

"That's you, dude." Frodo pointed out helpfully. "You're Schwa-Man."

"I'm Schwa-Man?" Schwa-Man poked himself, to make sure Frodo wasn't talking to someone behind him.

"Yep." Frodo pronounced happily.

Schwa-Man seemed as if he were going to protest, but shrugged and nodded. "Whatever. It's better than my real name, anyhow."

"Whazzat?" Pippin asked through a mouthful of Bilbo.

"Leslie."

Pippin spat, coughed and began laughing; a good-sized chunk of Bilbo flew across the room and splat on the wall loudly.

"Yeah, I know," Leslie replied, looking disgruntled. "So Schwa-Man it is, then?"

The hobbits all looked at each other again, and Frodo whispered loudly, "_Leslie?" _They all lost it and fell on the floor laughing.

Schwa-Man kicked Frodo in the face and he began bleeding profusely from the scape of band-aids covering the enormous hole in his face.

"That hurt, damn it!" Frodo swore, trying to push a Band-Aid soaked with blood back into the hole on his head.

"Don't call me Leslie." Schwa-Man said, grinning slightly at the way the light-brown floor of the Inn was turning maroon with Frodo's blood.

Just then, a loud, amplified voice echoed around the room. "In light of our brave escape from those Wraiths, I declare a celebration!"

A loud cheer went up around the room.

"… with FIVE dinners instead of FOUR!"

The cheer rose to a deafening roar that could have shattered the windows.

"And to accompany our pigfest, with his charming voice and wise words of wisdom, I give you..."

Just then, there was a loud _crack!_

"… Lord Elrond!"

"HAPPY HOUR WITH ELROND?" Frodo shouted disbelievingly.

A loud, pimping bass-line ripped through the room, and Elrond began shaking his pelvis in ways that you don't even want to imagine. His deep voice tore through the atmosphere, which was as awkward and tense as said pelvis-shaking was.

_"You don't have to be beautiful to turn me on  
I just need your body baby, from dusk till dawn  
You don't need experience to turn me on  
Just leave it all up to me, I'm gonna show you what it's all about"_

Everyone was cringing and trying to make their way to the door, but Elrond seemed quite oblivious and kept putting on his show. His tight leather pants showed every ripple and every bulge in his thighs, and retching was heard in the back of the room somewhere.

_"You don't have to be rich to be my girl,  
You don't have to be cool to rule my world  
Ain't no particular side I'm more compatible with," _he sang, making googly eyes at Frodo who cringed and hid his face in Sam's cloak, and then Elrond slid across the slick floor on his knees for the last line.

"I just want your extra time and your kiss!"

He smooched the microphone loudly and wetly. Looking around expectantly, he raised his Vulcan eyebrows suggestively around the room.

A hundred pairs of scarred eyes gazed back at him. The room was as good as dead, anyway.

...

**a/n:** That was awesome. I love how productive our Friday nights are. Also, poor Leslie.


End file.
